From Marauders Abroad
by Shinigami's Demon
Summary: Based on a Mark Twain short story. The Marauders are on a field trip to muggle Rome. There guide is quite a boring chap and so they decide to liven things up a bit.


Author's Note: I got the idea for this in my American Literature class last week. At first, it reminded me of something me, my dad, my youngest brother, and my ex-boyfriend would do; but then, I thought of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Marauders or Lily Evans. That belongs to J.K. Rowling. I also own only half of the plot line. That came from "From Innocence Abroad", by Mark Twain. The rest is, unfortunately, personal experiences of myself and my father.

Summary: In an attempt to win Lily Evans's heart, James Potter drags his friends Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and Remus Lupin along on a Muggles Studies field trip to Italy. When things get boring, the Marauders decide to have a little "fun" with the tour guide.

Ratings/Pairings: wannabe JP/LE

**"From Marauders Abroad"**

by Jetta K. Delaney

Before the field trip, the Marauders thought they were capable of appreciating muggle art. They at first were amazed about how accurate the muggles could get paintings without magic; how realistic they could create statues without transfiguration. Lily had claimed that Italy was home to the best artist in the world: Michelangelo.

At first, the Marauders had to agree. However, after six days of seeing nothing and hearing nothing that wasn't about Michelangelo, the four friends had a very different opinion of him. They had heard about Michelangelo at breakfast, lunch, dinner, tea, and all the times between; one must warn that four bored Marauders is not a good thing.

"Why don't they just say the obvious?" whispered Sirius. "He designed everything in Genoa. He designed everything in Milan. Florence, Verona, Venice, Bologna—nothing but Michelangelo!"

James sighed in agreement. "When he didn't designed, he'd sit on a rock and plan for. Yesterday, Lily showed me said rock."

"They would have said he designed the Tower of Pisa if it weren't so horribly crooked. You'd think the muggles would straighten it out, wouldn't you?" asked Remus.

"It's frightening," squeaked Peter. "He designed the Vatican, Saint Peter's, the Capitol, the Coliseum, the Pantheon, the Tiber River, the Pope!"

"He designed the entire Eternal Bore that is the Eternal City! The gods built all of bloody Italy by the blueprints of Michelangelo!" exclaimed Sirius.

The Marauders never felt so fervently thankful, so tranquil, so filled with blessed peace as they did when they learned Michelangelo was dead.

But they felt a keen need for revenge upon the guide who had drowned them in nothing but the work of this wretched overachiever. He had marched them through miles and miles of paintings, frescoes, statues of Michelangelo. Finally they came up with a little mind game—imbecilic, idiotic questions. After all, sans Remus, it was what they did best.

The poor guide never suspected; the unassuming muggle had no grasp of sarcasm.

He showed them a bronze statue. "By Michelangelo?" Remus asks innocently.

"No. We don't know who," he states cordially. It was obvious he got that question a lot. Next he shows them the ancient Roman forum. Even Peter knows this is no Michelangelo.

Nonetheless, Sirius asked...seriously, "Michelangelo?" The guide stares and blinks a few times, as if collecting his thoughts.

"Uh, no. A thousand year before he is born, in fact." Next, Cleopatra's Needle, the Egyptian obelisk.

Peter is straining to keep a straight face. "Michelangelo?" The guide was now looking at them like they each had an extra head.

'Gentlemen, this is two thousand years before he was born!"

The guide was growing so wary of their unceasing questions, that he tried to avoid showing them anything else. The menace had tried all the ways he can to convince them that Michelangelo was only responsible for the creation of a part of the world, but—much to his annoyance—he had somehow not succeeded. But sightseeing was necessary if he wished to gather a pay from these four imbeciles' surely longsuffering teacher. He had to continue to suffer. If he did not enjoy it, so the much worse for him. The Marauders did.

It is here we must make mention of the necessary nuisance that is a European guide. Many an American (or magical) man and woman had wished they could do without these insufferable human beings, or at least get some form of amusement out of him as retribution for the hours of torment endured in their company. Naturally, one must take advantage of the latter as often as possible. If they can achieve the same success of Misters Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, then they are welcome to it.

Guides know enough English to make neither heads nor tails of it. Oh they know their stories by heart, alright; I'll give you that. They know it and tell it, all while doing a remarkable impression of a trained parrot. If you interrupt, they must start all over again. They feed on the admiration of others like a Dementor. They cannot live without bursts of wonder from their charges.

This is why the Marauders now look about as vibrant as Snape in a room full of Gryffindors. They had found the weak point: the Achilles heel of these life-draining leeches. Some of their class mates have burst into church giggles, got into arguments, or stood and gaped in wonder—but Potter, Pettigrew, Lupin, and Black had never lost their own serenity. This should have been enough, under normal circumstances, to alert their fellow students to the impending danger. But, alas, all but Snape were too interested in their own business to notice, and Snape himself was finding the torture unendingly amusing and wasn't about to notify any teachers to it.

Padfoot, the best at keeping a straight face, generally asked the questions. For some reason when he asks these questions, he looks more like an inspired idiot and is able to throw more imbecility into his tone of voice than any man that ever lived. It comes naturally to him.

The guide motioned enthusiastically to the class. "Come with me, children! I show you a letter written by Christopher Columbus himself—in his own hand!" The group trudged along to the municipal palace. After much impressive and ultimately useless fumbling of locks he showed them the document. "What I tell you? Is it not in handwriting of Christopher Columbus himself?" The four looked at the document indifferently.

Finally, after Sirius examines the document carefully, he said without interest: "Who did you say wrote this again?"

"Christopher Columbus! He wrote it himself!"

"Why I've seen five year olds with better handwriting than this!"

"But it's—"

"I don't care who it is! It's the worst writing I ever saw. Now don't think you can impose on us because we are young foreigners. We are not fools. If you haven't got any better examples of handwriting than this, then we'll go somewhere else."

As they continued the guide was considerably shaken up. Of course, no one in the group except Snape and the Marauders knew why, though Lily had her suspicions.

"Ah, class this is the bust of Christopher Columbus. Isn't it beautiful!" It was beautiful, but...

Sirius: "Ah, Christopher Columbus. What did you say he did again?"

The guide blinked. "Discovered America."

"Discovered America? Do you really expect us to believe that? It's a pleasant name though. Is he dead?"

"For three hundred years!"

Remus raised his hand to his chin and looked at the statue with an air of scholarly indifference. "Ah, what did he die of?"

"I don't know."

"Small pox then?"

"I don't know!"

Sirius turned to his compatriot. "No, Remie. It was obviously measles. Parents living?"

"Impossible!"

Jamesasked "Is this the first time he was ever on a bust?" The Marauders clearly heard Snape and Malfoy snickering in the background. Unfortunately, the joke was lost on the guide.

They had made it interesting for the guide. They spent three to four hours in the Vatican that day. They had come dangerously close to expressing interest, but thankfully held it in. By this time they had, in a temporary truce against a common enemy, allowed Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy to join their torture of the guide. Not that the two Slytherins had done anything but sneer already. With six of his group completely uninterested, the guide was completely bewildered.

He had saved the best wonder for last though: a royal Egyptian mummy, unarguably one of the best preserved in the world. He was so enthusiastic that the Marauders almost felt sorry for him. Almost. After all they had a reputation to uphold in front of Malfoy and Snape. Sirius and Remus examine it diligently.

Sirius examined it intently. "What's his name?"

"He had got no name."

"Born here?" Remus asked amiably.

"No, he is Egyptian mummy."

"Ah, a Frenchman is it?" James declared randomly.

"No! Egyptian mummy! From Egypt!"

Malfoy jumped in and with surprising composure: "Never heard of it? Foreign most likely, I suppose? How calm and possessed he is? Is he dead?"

"Oh...a thousand years." Apparently, hearing one of what the professor called a top student was too much. Lucius looked outraged.

"Here now! What do you mean by such conduct? Trying to impose a second-hand corpse on us!"

"Yeah!" Sirius agreed. "If you have a nice fresh corpse you better bring it out now or we'll report you!"

The guide didn't comment. In fact he avoided the six students for the rest of the day. The next morning he casually asked the professor if his school was for "special students". Not knowing what the muggle meant he replied yes, thinking one of his students had accidentally used magic.

So for any of you who find yourselves exhausted with the repetitive dullness, the eternal bore, the well-rehearsed monotony that is a European guide—casually approach the statue, painting or other representation of some well-known historic figure. Look at it stupidly for about fifteen seconds (or give it a scholarly look if you can muster it; this always leaves them in a state of bewildered agitation); then take a deep breath and ask: "Is he dead?"

This conquers the most well-composed of them all. Of course the Marauders' guide was one of the most unusually patient, long-suffering, unsuspecting to exist. They greatly enjoyed his company. But as for his feelings on them...well, they have their doubts.

A/N: It works. Trust me. And they can't deck you or they'll get fired! It's great! Especially the snooty

museum guides: they think they're the gift God has bestowed on man; benevolent angels that

try to educate us plebeians in civilized life. They also have this natural defense that causes them

to turn the most unique shade of purple when dealing with stupid people. I personally find it

amusing, and recommend it to anyone who wishes to liven up a boring field trip.


End file.
